


We are the Wolves

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Leverage team is too busy pulling a job to help out Zoe Kerrigan, they instead assemble several of the kids they've helped in the past to form the next generation of the Leverage team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            It starts when Zoe comes back to her dorm room and finds her roommate crying. Between the tears Rachel tells her about how her project is going to lose funding, and the best Zoe can tell, it’s because of a professor who appears to have been bribed to use the money for a different project. It’s college politics, pure and simple, but Zoe knows how much work Rachel’s put into this project. Zoe figures it can’t hurt to try and fix this.

            “Mr. Ford, I need your help.” Zoe says into the phone. It’s been years since she last talked to the man, even though he used to call every couple months to make sure she and her dad were doing okay. But every once in a while she’d get a postcard in the mail with a new cell phone number printed on it, and she always makes sure to hang on to them. She doesn’t ever want to need to call Mr. Ford, but she knows it’s better to have his number just in case.

            “Who is this?” The voice is older, more tired than the last time Zoe heard it.

            “Zoe.” She says. “Zoe Kerrigan. You helped me and my dad out a long time ago.”

            “I remember.” Mr. Ford says, and he’s not lying. Zoe can tell. “What do you need? Are you and your dad okay?”

            “Yeah.” Zoe says. “Yeah, we’re fine. It’s my roommate.” She tells him the story. “Is there – is there anything you can do?”

            There’s a long sigh on the other end of the line, and Zoe can hear people shouting in the background. Mr. Ford sounds distracted when he says, “I’m in the middle of something pretty big right now. I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to help.”

            Zoe can’t help but wonder if her childhood hero just doesn’t care. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” She asks.

            There’s a bit of a pause. “I’ll think of something. Let me call you back.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Boston?” Sophie screams from the closet. “Nate, we’ve been in Sydney all of three hours, and you want to go to Boston?”

            “She needs help.”

            “So do the Hartwicks.” There’s a thud as Sophie drops a suitcase on the floor. “We can’t help everyone. You already promised this family you’d help them.” She pokes her head out. “And this con was your idea. Hardison’s idea would have been a lot shorter.”

            “That’s because Hardison’s idea would have ended up with us all in jail.” Nate says. “What do I tell Zoe?”

            “Don’t tell her anything.” Sophie says. “Teach her how to solve problems on her own.”

            Nate’s silent for a few minutes. “Where are the others?”

 

* * *

 

            “Are those sirens?”

            Josie ducks into a broom closet. “Who is this?”

            “Parker.” The woman on the other end of the line says, like it’s a silly question.

            For a minute, Josie still doesn’t know who she’s talking to, and she’s not sure if it’s her memory or the fact the building alarm is still going off and she has maybe a minute before the cops show up.

            “The good guys?” Josie asks. The hall is empty, and she cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder as she runs for the stairs.

            “Yes!” Parker sounds pleased. “I’ve got a job for you. Are you interested?”

            Josie almost says no. But then she’s watching cop cars roll up in front of the lobby, and she figures that whatever Parker’s offering, it’s got to be better than the crew she’s currently running with.

            “I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Widmark is leaving yet another casting audition for a commercial when his phone rings. “Hello?” He asks, wondering if it’s possible he finally landed a job.

            “Widmark?” A voice that sounds vaguely familiar asks.

            “It’s just Mark now.” He corrects the woman. “Who’s this?”

            “Ms. Donovan. I was your teacher years ago-”

            He cuts her off. “I remember you. You’re the one who got me interested in acting.”

            The woman sounds delighted. “I have a fantastic job for you, if you’re interested.”

            Widmark looks over his shoulder at the building he just left. Getting a call is pretty unlikely. “I’m interested.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Man, just give up!” Hardison’s chuckling in Trevor’s ear. “You’re never going to beat my system. You’re good, but not that good.”

            “One day.” Trevor promises. “And I’m still better at World of Warcraft.”

            He’s waiting for a snarky reply from Hardison, but instead all he can hear is muffled voices.

            “Hey, man, you interested in a job?”

            “Does it involve working with other people?”

            “It’s not as bad as you think.” Hardison says, and Trevor agrees with a bit of a sigh.

 

* * *

 

            “Perky!” Molly says when she sees who’s calling. “What’s up?”

            “You’ve been taking self-defense classes, right?”

            “More than just self-defense.” Molly answers. “My dad enrolled me in everything he could find.” Back then, she’d called it some sort of twisted reaction to her getting kidnapped. But that was years ago, and she could have stopped the training but she actually likes being able to beat people up.

            “Good. Listen, I’ve got a thing you might be interested in.”

            Molly doesn’t have to think about it. Anything would be better than what she’s currently doing – which is nothing. “I’m in.”

            “Thanks, Botasky.”

 

* * *

 

            A stack of folders lands on her desk, and Olivia bites back a sigh. She switches the phone to her other ear.

            “Dad, I swear, I’m fine.” She says.

            “I’m just saying, I could put in a word-”

            “You were the one who wanted to work my way up in the first place.”

            Olivia can picture the eye roll her dad is doing. “That was before you got assigned to someone who doesn’t appreciate your contribution.”

            Olivia eyes the stack of folders. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll land a case soon enough where I can prove myself.” As much as she wants a better assignment, she doesn’t want to always be known as James Sterling’s daughter.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

            It takes almost two full days for Mr. Ford to call her back, and Zoe’s nervous that he’s forgotten completely. When he does, it’s to tell her an address and a keypad code. She’s never met anyone so good at evading questions, and his “Good luck!” is just a little too cheery.

            Zoe almost doesn’t go to the address. She knows Mr. Ford won’t be there – he’s at least told her that much – and she’s not sure what he expects her to do. But she goes, because it’s not like she has any other options. The address is a warehouse, and Zoe’s more than a little confused when she enters the code and steps inside. Only part of the giant space is lit, and oddly enough there’s a shelf full of cereal boxes in the middle of the lit up area.

            Zoe’s footsteps echo in the mostly empty space, and there’s a crash from somewhere in the darkness. More lights flicker on, and she finds herself staring at a boy wearing a baseball hat backwards. He’s in the middle of setting up a couple of computer monitors, and he’s got his arms spread to protect them like they’re his babies. He relaxes when Zoe steps into the light enough that he can see her face, but Zoe’s pretty freaked out.

            “Oh. It’s just you.” The boy says, and goes back to fiddling with a bunch of cords.

            “Do I know you?” Zoe asks.

            The boy doesn’t bother to turn back to face her. “No.” He says.

            Zoe’s not quite sure what to do when he doesn’t offer anything more than that. She drops her bag on the giant table that’s near the computers. Mr. Ford’s words are echoing in her head – “You’ll find everything you need at that address.” She’s not exactly sure how a kid – he looks younger than her – is supposed to help her.

            There’s a low whistle that echoes loudly, and Zoe jumps. The kid drops a speaker and picks it up. Zoe can hear him whispering what sound like apologies to it, but she’s more interested in the girl who is walking towards them. She’s older than Zoe, but she looks like a kid at Christmas the way she’s smiling and looking around the warehouse.

            “This place is sweet.” The girl says. She sticks a hand out and Zoe shakes it, feeling pretty lost. “Hi. I’m Josie.”

            “Zoe.” Zoe says, because there’s not much else she can say. Josie nods and takes a seat at the table. Zoe joins her. She can’t help but feel that everyone else knows exactly why they’re here.

            “Hello?” A voice calls out uncertainly from the doorway, and soon enough a skinny kid walks over to the table.

            The boy working on the computers stops long enough to say, “So that’s what someone named Widmark looks like in person. I was wondering.”

            The kid turns bright red. “It’s just Mark.” He says, and it sounds like he’s used to saying that multiple times a day.

            “I like Widmark. It’s unique.” A girl emerges from the shadows on the opposite side of the building from the door. “Everyone’s here, right?” She asks the kid at the computers.

            “Yeah.” The boy says. He pushes a giant screen over to the table. “Molly, you want to explain?”

            The girl shakes her head. “You do it.”

            “We all got a phone call, right?” The boy says. “Asking us if we could help someone out. Zoe here has a friend who needs help. We’re going to help her.”

            “Mr. Ford called you?” Zoe asks.

            “No.” The boy says, frowning a little. “Someone else on his team did.”

            “Oh.” Zoe says, not really sure where to go from there. She doesn’t really remember the other people Mr. Ford worked with, just the man who saved her life.

            The boy points at Mark. “Widmark over here, he’s our grifter.”

            “I’m what?” Mark asks. “And it’s Mark.”

            “You’re an actor, right?”

            “I’ve actually only ever booked one real job.” Mark says, and he sounds pretty dejected. “And I’m an extra in a community theater play.”

            “Close enough.” The boy says. “I’m Trevor. The best hacker who isn’t on the FBI’s watch list.”

            “You’re not on it because you aren’t good enough to be on it.” Molly says.

            Trevor chooses to ignore her. “This is Molly, and I’m not really sure what she does, but she says it’s important.” Molly makes a weird face and waves. “Josie’s a thief.”

            Mark goes pale at that and raises his hand. “Are we doing something illegal?” He asks.

            “We pick up where the law leaves off.” Trevor says, and it sounds like he’s quoting someone – or possibly reading off a script. Either way, Mark doesn’t look any less pale.

            “And that leaves Zoe.” Trevor is saying. “The leader of our little crew.”

            “Wait, what?” Zoe says. She’s got four sets of eyes staring at her now. “Leader? Of what? What are we doing here? Everyone else seems to know what’s going on but me. All I know is that Mr. Ford told me to show up here and I’d find what I need to solve this problem my boss is having.”

            “We’re the solution.” Trevor says like it’s obvious, and maybe it is, but Zoe still can’t help but feel like she wants to smack him.

            Mark raises his hand again. “I don’t know what we’re doing here.” He offers. “I’m still not sure what a grifter is.”

            “I am so going to kill Hardison.” Trevor announces to his computers.


	3. Chapter 3

 

            Josie has rules she tries to live by. Nothing set in stone, not really. More like ways to keep herself out of trouble. And the way she sees it, she should just walk away from this job right now. There’s no faster way to end up in cuffs than to work with a bunch of newbies who don’t know what they’re doing, and she can tell by how quickly the blood is draining from Widmark’s face, he has no clue what he agreed to do.

            She doesn’t leave, though. Not yet. Zoe has this look on her face, panic and determination combined, that makes Josie at least a little bit interested at where this is going. Besides, if she’s learned one thing over the years, it’s how to get out of a bad spot. As soon as this thing starts going south, she’s bailing. She figures she doesn’t owe Parker a jail sentence.

 

* * *

 

 

            There are reasons why Trevor doesn’t work with people. He’s explained these reasons to Hardison before, ignoring the way the older man would cackle and tell him he just hasn’t found the right people yet. There are no right people, if you ask him. People are unpredictable and unreliable. He doesn’t see the point in dealing with that if he’s got everything he needs to live – and then some – thanks to his hacking.

            But there’s one reason why he should work with people – one wonderful, amusing reason that Hardison has never told him. Trevor can tell just how _crazy_ this job is going to get. Widmark is whiter than a ghost, and Zoe’s got this interesting combination of wild-eyed panic and a jaw set in determination, and Trevor wants to see how far he can push this, see how ridiculous this can get. He’s going to bail before they mess up this job anyways, so what does it really matter if he sticks around a couple of days?

            Molly has absolutely nothing to do with it.

 

* * *

 

 

            Molly doesn’t kid herself. She is so sticking around for this. Front row seats to a comedy aside, Eliot’s given her this chance to actually do something fun. Not that her life isn’t fun, but ever since Eliot actually explained what he does, she’s been dying for a chance to experience this for herself. She wants to beat up a couple of bad guys and show just how badass she is. And if she gets to help someone out too? That’s just icing on the cake.

 

* * *

 

 

            Widmark notices that somehow no one else sitting at the table seems remotely concerned about doing something illegal. He’s not sure whether to take that as what they’re doing isn’t so bad, or if everyone else has a different mindset when it comes to doing illegal things. He’s not sure if he should stand up right now and walk out, or maybe just wait until everyone leaves and then never come back. He’s about to get up when Molly leans over, punches him on the arm, and says, “This is going to be _fun_.”

            Molly scares Widmark, so he decides it’s best to wait until she isn’t around before making himself scarce.

    

* * *

       

           Zoe looks around the table. Widmark looks like he’s about to bolt, but everyone else seems like they’re sticking around at least as long as it takes to find out why they’re all here in the first place. Trevor has finally stopped fiddling with wires and is giving her this look that she’s guessing means it’s her turn to start explaining.

            _We’re the solution_. Mr. Ford’s given her the people she needs to solve this problem. That leaves her, she supposes, to actually come up with the plan.

            Here it goes, Zoe thinks. “Okay. So I guess the best place to start is to tell you guys what happened.” Maybe if she stalls long enough a plan will just pop into her head.


	4. Chapter 4

            Rachel spent months researching and planning for her project. Hours filling out the proper forms and completing the necessary training. Days interviewing and meeting with people, making sure that every aspect of it would go off without a hitch. Months searching for enough funding so that all of that work could create something.

            Zoe has stayed up enough late nights as a sounding board for Rachel that she knows the project almost as well as her roommate. She tells the others about how Rachel’s volunteer work at one of the homeless shelters in the city led her to push for better mental health resources for Boston’s homeless population – specifically, teenagers.

            It’s an ambitious project, one that took her nearly a year and a half to pull together, but two months ago it finally looked like Rachel had finally put together enough funding and gotten enough support that she could start holding small support group meetings. The plan was for a licensed psychologist to run the meetings, with psychology grads and undergrads there to provide extra support and mentoring. The first two meetings went off smoothly and it looked like Rachel had succeeded.

            A week ago, it all fell apart.

            Zoe pauses, not for dramatic effect but because she wants to see if the others are even paying attention. They don’t know Rachel. Most of them aren’t even from around here. She can’t help but wonder why they cared enough to even show up at this warehouse, let alone sit through this story. But as she looks at each face in turn, she’s sees that they’re actually listening. So she continues.

            Most of the psychology department supported Rachel’s project. There wasn’t enormous amounts of funding available, especially not for undergrads, but Rachel had done her best to convince the chair of the department that her project should be funded. The chair had agreed. Unfortunately, that had been several months earlier, and the chair had since been promoted to vice provost of education within the university. A good career move, yes, but the new chair of the department was not as excited about Rachel’s project. Funding that she had been promised for a year was cut off after two months.

            The chair had given Rachel excuses about needing to cut back and how the money just wasn’t there, not for something like this. There wasn’t any money, the chair kept saying, and Rachel might have been able to deal with that had a mysterious new project not been quickly approved and funded. A project that happened to come from the chair’s own lab.

            “He took away Rachel’s funding to fund something of his own.” Zoe explains. “Rachel was promised that money, and besides, his project didn’t have to go through the same screening as Rachel’s.”

            She stops and looks around again. Trevor is back to messing around with the computers, and her heart sinks a little. He’s clearly not interested in helping. A voice in the back of her head reminds her - _why should he be?_

            Widmark clears his throat and raises his hand. “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.” He says. Zoe’s a little surprised at how much he actually seems to mean that. She isn’t expecting them to care. She can’t say for certain that she would care if she was in their shoes.

            Josie looks thoughtful. “So your friend needs money for this project. Can’t she just get it somewhere else?”

            It’s a good question, one Zoe asked Rachel a week ago. “No. She’s gone other places already to make up the rest of the funding for the project. But the real support came from her department. She’s looked into other places, but she needs the money fast or the whole project is going to fail.”

            “We have to get the chair of the psychology department to restore funding for your friend’s project. That means we have to get him to take the money away from his own project.” Josie muses.

            “And it has to be his.” Zoe adds. “I don’t want someone else’s project to lose out either.”

            “So what’s the plan?” Molly asks. She hasn’t spoken in a while. She’s been chewing on a pen, and her nose is scrunched up. Zoe can’t tell if she’s confused or bored or just makes weird faces normally, but either way she feels like she’s been put on the spot.

            “I-” Zoe takes a deep breath. There’s something forming in the back of her head. But an actual plan? “I need a little more time to think of one.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Nate’s expecting the phone call. It doesn’t come and doesn’t come, and he’s starting to wonder if Zoe had even gone to Parker’s old warehouse in the first place, or if she’d decided not to. He worries about it until there’s the familiar sound of Hardison gasping and Eliot cursing and the quick _swoosh_ of air that comes when Parker’s jumped out of another window. Maybe he was a little too focused on Zoe’s problem and not the one at hand, he thinks when he bursts into the ballroom to find a small fire in the middle of the dessert table and Eliot with his head in his hands three feet away.

            “But I didn’t stab anyone!” Parker is saying for what Nate figures is the twentieth time – at least – when they arrive back at the hotel to regroup.

            “You set the table on fire.” Eliot growls.

            “Only a small fire.” Parker says back. Sophie holds up the skirt of her evening dress, whose hem is looking decidedly burned, and just looks at Parker. Nate almost doesn’t hear his phone ringing amid Parker’s new round of defense.

            “Mr. Ford?” Zoe says. “I – I met the people you sent.”

            “Good.” Nate says. “How’s that going?”

            There’s so many things that Zoe could say to answer that, but what pops out is a simple “Good”. Nate’s not exactly good at understanding teenage girls – it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice – but he doesn’t need help to know that’s not exactly what Zoe means.

            “I don’t know what to do.” Zoe continues. “I’ve got all these people and I’m supposed to have a plan. I don’t have a plan!”

            Nate’s been expecting a freak out. He’s coached Hardison through enough of them (there’s a reason he doesn’t let Hardison run more cons, and it’s only partly because Hardison tends to overcomplicate things) to recognize the signs. He’s given this advice several times by now.

            “Sure you do.” He says. “See, the thing is, you already know what the answer to the problem is. You just need to figure out the steps in-between.”

            “That’s easier said than done.” Zoe says.

            “Of course it is.” Nate says. He’s about to say something else, but the discussion between the team is, if anything, getting more heated. “Look, Zoe, I’ve got stuff I need to deal with here. Just remember that the simplest solution is normally the best. You’ll figure it out.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Zoe hears muffled yelling – _“Setting fires is not better than stabbing someone!”_ – and then the line goes dead. Part of her wants to be angry with Mr. Ford. Angry that he won’t just tell her what to do, angry that he’s making these decisions without telling her anything. She knows he’s being cryptic on purpose. She just isn’t entirely sure why.

            But Mr. Ford is right about one thing. She does know the problem, and she does know the solution. Josie had pointed it out earlier. She needs to get Rachel’s funding restored, and in order to do that she needs to take funding away from the chair’s project. Basic logic says that the chair will never do that willingly, so what she really needs to do is find a way to shut his project down.

            Zoe walks back into the warehouse feeling more in control than before, even if she’s fairly certain she’ll find that the others had snuck out while she was on the phone. But instead everyone is still there, eyes trained on her.

Trevor emerges from a tangle of wires, a tablet held over his head in triumph. “We’re up and running!” He crows. A projector turns on somewhere overhead. Zoe turns to see a picture of the professor come up on the large screen Trevor had set up.

“What’s this?” Zoe asks. She’s confused. Ten minutes ago, Trevor wasn’t even paying attention to her. At least, that’s what she thought.

Trevor stabs a finger in Zoe’s direction. “I do my homework.” He announces.

“Yeah, right.” Molly says.

“Okay, so I don’t do my homework.” Trevor admits. “But I did do some research. This is our mark, Carl McAdams. He’s been a professor for, like, forever. Tenured, so it’s not like we can just get him fired. He took over as chair of the Psychology Department almost three months ago.”

Zoe doesn’t know what to say. She feels a little guilty, thinking that Trevor didn’t care only to find out that he already has all this information. “How do you know this?”

“Hardison told me what you told Nate.” Trevor says. “And I don’t like going into things blind.” He hits a button on his tablet, and something else pops up on the screen. “Here are his professor ratings. Basically, he’s known for being a tough grader. Lectures are interesting enough that kids take his classes anyways.”

Josie interrupts. “So what’s our in?”

“His research project. It’s a study using undergrads as participants.” Trevor says.

“Simple is best.” Zoe says, more to herself than anyone else in the room. “So we make sure his project just can’t get off the ground. We make sure he doesn’t have participants. We cause enough problems that it isn’t worth it to him to keep going.”  
            “You think that will work?” Widmark asks. If it had come from anyone else, Zoe would have felt insulted. Coming from him, it seems like an honest question, and she feels obligated to tell him the truth.

“I don’t know.” She says. “But I have to try something, and this is all I’ve got right now.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s an art museum!” Olivia says. She’s not yelling at her boss, but only barely. “On a college campus. What am I supposed to be doing there?”

            “Art theft is an $8 billion-a-year business.” Her boss says, either unaware her tone or choosing to ignore it. “It’s used to fund terrorism and-”

            “Please don’t quote my dad.” Olivia says. “I get it, art theft is a big deal. But this art isn’t exactly worth millions of dollars. It’s not like there’s a Monet hanging on the wall.”

            “No.” Her boss agrees. “And it’s not like you’re an agent with years of experience. You wanted something in the field. You’ve got it.” He holds out the case folder. “Either you take this case, or you can go back to the files you were working on before.”

            Olivia takes the case folder. She also closes the office door a little harder than necessary on her way out.

            She barely sits down at her desk when her boss pokes his head out of his office. “Did I tell you? We want you in there undercover. Your internship at the museum starts on Monday.”

            Most days, Olivia wants to work her way up through the ranks. Not every day. Some days, she wishes her dad would at least get her past all this new-agent-worst-assignment crap she has to deal with.


	5. Chapter 5

 

            It’s one of those days in Boston when there’s a glimpse at nicer weather to come. The sun is out, and even with the wind the coldest the temperature can be described as is brisk. Even so, Widmark keeps his coat buttoned all the way up as he pushes through crowds of students. He keeps repeating his lines over and over in his head, but they keep getting interrupted by a little voice in the back of his mind asking why he is doing this.

            Office hours started at one, but Widmark gets lost (East Hall and West Hall look a lot alike, and he’s not exactly great with directions) and so it is twenty minutes later that he finally arrives. Professor McAdams has the biggest office in the building, up on the third floor with views of the campus spread out below. Widmark joins three other students who are leaning up against the wall outside the office. It’s nearing midterm time, and Widmark can tell by the way the other three are clutching old quizzes that they’re nervous about their upcoming test with this professor.

            Widmark doesn’t mind that it takes a while for McAdams to get through all of the students in front of him. He’s actually hoping that McAdams will have to run to teach another class before Widmark gets the chance to speak with him. Then Widmark can just go back to Zoe and say, sorry but I tried my best and now I’m out. That, of course, doesn’t happen. It doesn’t take long before the student in line in front of Widmark is leaving McAdams’s office, and the professor is looking at Widmark with raised eyebrows.

            “Can I help you?” He asks.

            “Erm.” Widmark manages to say. His mind goes totally blank for a split second. Maybe he can just run out of here right now. No one would have to know.

            “Why don’t you come in and take a seat.” McAdams says.

            Widmark sits down in the offered chair and drops his backpack to the floor. He extends a hand – more a product of going to an exclusive private school than actual good manners – and says, “I’m Jeff Clinton, president of the student group Students for Moral Actions.”

            “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.” McAdams says.

            Widmark gives what he hopes is a rueful smile. Given the look he gets back from McAdams, it probably isn’t. “We’re still a small organization, but our membership is increasing. Anyways, one of our members brought this to my attention.” He hands the professor a flyer, one of many that could be found hanging on campus.

            _Trevor had shown them all a copy of the flyer two days earlier, when they had regrouped after giving Zoe enough time to think of an actual plan. “McAdams is studying the effect of alcohol on perceptions of gender.” Trevor explained to the group. “Basically, he’s giving participants twenty bucks each to get drunk and look at pictures.”_

_“That’s allowed?” Josie asked._

_Trevor shrugged. “No one’s stopped him. That’s our job.”  
            “That’s our job.” Molly mimicked. “Do you know how ridiculously cheesy you sound?”_

McAdams looks down at the flyer in his hand. “I take it you aren’t here because you wish to participate in my research.”

            Widmark stabs a finger at the flyer. “You call that research?” He asks. “Do you want to know what this is?”

            “Please tell me.” McAdams says, a faint smile playing on his face. Not exactly the reaction Widmark was hoping for.

            “Morally reprehensible!” Widmark yells. “College students are faced with countless important decisions. How can you, as a professor and therefore someone students look up to for moral guidance, advertise something so disgusting?”

            McAdams looks like he’s going to start laughing, and Widmark is seriously considering a different career. “How is this disgusting? Or morally wrong?” He asks.

            “Do you check the ages of the students who participate?”

            “Participation is voluntary and for the most part anonymous. The only thing we check are school I.D.s, to make sure they go to this school.”

            “So you have no idea if you’re giving underage students alcohol, do you?” Widmark asks. “And by paying students for participating, you’re encouraging destructive behavior.”

            “Look.” McAdams says. “I get that you personally don’t approve of my research. That’s fine. But one student having a problem with it isn’t going to change anything. I’m not going to shut down my research just because you find drinking against your beliefs.”

            “I am not just one student, Professor.” Widmark says, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “There are more of us than you think. This project will not continue.”

            With that, he turns and walks out of the office. Zoe had said to make it dramatic, but he’s worried that it was a little too dramatic to be believable. McAdams makes no attempt to say anything to him as he leaves. Widmark wonders if his little performance will have any effect at all. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t see the girl standing just outside the entrance to the building until he crashes into her.

 

* * *

 

 

            “I’m so sorry!” A boy says to Olivia seconds after he walked straight into her, sending both of them flying to the ground. He offers a hand to help her up and she takes it, even though he looks too scrawny to pull her up.

            “It’s fine.” Olivia says. She brushes off her coat and turns to look at the boy. “Actually, can you help me? I’m looking for the art museum. I think it’s in West Hall?”

            Olivia’s been trained well. She sees the fleeting look of panic on the boy’s face when she asks for directions, a look that settles when she asks for West Hall. She’s almost curious enough to press further, but she’s running late for the first day of her internship, and her boss is going to kill her if she does anything to mess this up.

            “Directly across from here.” The boy says, pointing across the quad. “I did the same thing this morning.”

            _That_ catches her attention. It’s the middle of the semester, and if this kid goes here, he should definitely know his way around campus by now. She gives the kid another look and realizes he looks a little young to be at college. Maybe he’s touring? But the kid is already walking away, and Olivia pushes him out of her mind.

 

* * *

 

 

            “So phase one is to tell the mark we don’t like his research.” Molly says. She reaches over and grabs a handful of chips from the bag Josie is holding. “That’s not going to do anything.”

            “We need to make it not worth his while to conduct the research.” Zoe says.

            “If he’s put effort into this project, he’s not just going to stop.” Josie points out.

            Zoe turns away so the two girls won’t see how red her cheeks are. She knows that McAdams won’t just give up. That’s not her plan. She wants the professor completely distracted by the uproar against his project. _That’s_ when she’ll be able to take this guy down.

            “Are you eating by my computer?” Trevor yelps from the doorway of the warehouse.

           “Ugh. Chill, dude.” Molly calls over her shoulder. “It’s just chips.”

  
           “Do you know what those crumbs can do to my ba-”

           “Baby?” Molly twists fully around in her seat. “Please tell me you were about to say baby. That’s so cute.”

            It’s Trevor’s turn to blush. “Whatever.” He takes a seat in front of the monitors. “Has Widmark bailed on us yet?”

           “He’s not going to bail on us.” Josie says. “He did fine talking to McAdams. Where have you been?”

           Trevor just shrugs. Zoe watches him for a minute. She knows why the others have stuck around this long. Molly’s here because she’s bored. Josie actually seems to care – at least, she acts like she cares. Widmark seems too terrified of Molly hunting him down to bail on them. But Trevor bounces back and forth, and Zoe can’t figure out if he wants to be here or if he’s going to disappear any second.

            “The next step is to make it look like half the campus is against the mark’s project.” Zoe says to Trevor. “I was thinking-”

            “Way ahead of you.” Trevor interjects. “Look, you want people to protest? There’s no better place to find them than on a college campus. That student group you made up for Widmark? Well, I used that to reach out to all these other groups on campus. The religious groups first. Then I got the feminists on board.”

            “What?”

            “I might have suggested that McAdams was paying frat boys to drunk and make derogatory comments about pictures of women.” Trevor said. “It worked.”

            “Does someone want to tell me why eight different people stopped me on my way back from meeting with McAdams to tell me how much they admired my efforts to stop his research?” Widmark asks. Everyone turns to look at him before spinning back around to look at Trevor, who simply shrugs.

            “I’m good at my job.”


	6. Chapter 6

            Olivia is being perfectly honest when she tells her father she can’t tell the difference between being an intern at a college art museum and being a newbie agent at Interpol. The same amount of paper is tossed on her desk, only at the museum it’s invitations for an upcoming event instead of case reports.

            “Fieldwork is fieldwork.” Her dad says. “Besides, art theft is an $8 billion-”

            “Please don’t quote yourself.” Olivia begs. “I get it, this is important. But this is boring.”

            “Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the trunk of a car?”

            “ _Yes,_ Dad.” Olivia says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

            She hangs up and stares mournfully at the stack of invitations she still needs to put into envelopes and stamp. She’s fairly certain it isn’t just her imagination – the stack has definitely grown larger.

            The work is easy enough that she lets her mind drift. Somehow it lands back on the boy she ran into a week earlier, a boy she hadn’t thought about since. There’s something about that encounter that still bothers her, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She would forget about it, but she’s James Sterling’s daughter, and if there’s one thing her dad taught her, it’s to never ignore her first instinct.

            It’s not until she’s walking across campus later, after work, that she starts to connect the dots. She spots a flyer advertising a protest outside the office of a Professor McAdams, scheduled for the next day. Protestors are meeting on the lawn in front of East Hall – the same place she ran into the boy. It could be a coincidence, but her dad taught her a long time ago never to ignore anything.

            It doesn’t take long for Olivia to decide to check out the protest tomorrow. If nothing else, she’ll be able to get a picture of him so she can run his face through the database. The chances of him being an international criminal are pretty slim, but she _is_ supposed to be on the lookout for art thieves. At least, that’s what she’s planning on telling her boss if he questions her. It’s entirely possible that the thieves targeting the museum aren’t an adult crew like the case file suggests, but a young group of thieves masquerading as students.

            Yeah. Totally possible.

 

* * *

 

 

            “So I might be too good at my job.” Trevor says in Josie’s ear.

She eyes the growing group of student protesters in front of her. “You think? There’s no way this many people are protesting against McAdams.”

“Yeah. This is _insane_.” Molly chimes in. Her voice is muffled, like she isn’t wearing one of the ear pieces herself but instead leaning over Trevor’s shoulder and talking into his.

            “What happened?”

            “I’m not totally sure.” Trevor admits. “I had maybe a couple hundred people interesting in protesting against McAdams. That number’s based on group membership. But then a couple larger groups heard about the protest. Kinda looks like they decided to piggyback.”

            “What are they protesting?”

            “Honestly?” Trevor asks. “Everything. Tuition rates, department cuts. Pretty sure there’s an anarchist group in there.”

            Josie takes a step back to avoid being run over by a group of sorority girls holding signs. “This is a mess.”  
            “How did this happen?” Zoe cuts in.

            “Social media. Facebook, Twitter. It just exploded.” Trevor says. “It’s out of my hands. This school was waiting for something to protest.”

            “Widmark?” Zoe asks. “You still good?”

            Josie turns and scans the crowd. She finally spots Widmark standing on the steps of East Hall. He’s shifting nervously from foot to foot, and Josie prays this doesn’t turn too ugly. She’s not sure they’ll get him back in one piece if it does.

            Josie isn’t entirely sure why she’s still sticking around for this job. So far, they haven’t even needed her skills. It’s not like there’s something she can just steal. If there was money in a safe in McAdams’s office, she could get it no problem and this whole thing would be over. But that’s not how this one works, and so she’s stuck babysitting Widmark. An hour ago, that had seemed like a boring task. Now, it’s looking more and more likely that this crowd is going to turn. It’s making her nervous. She deals with things that behave predictably – alarms and locks and safe doors. Not people.

            “Hey, Molly?” Josie says. “Any chance you can get down here?”

            “That bad?” Molly asks. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

            Josie checks her watch. The protest isn’t technically scheduled to start for another ten minutes. Josie doesn’t like their chances of everything staying calm long enough for Molly to get there.

            “Make it faster.” She says.

            Molly doesn’t make it there fast enough. The protest has exploded from waving signs to practically rioting. Widmark gets about three sentences into his speech against McAdams before somebody grabs the microphone from him and starts chanting about tuition rates. Things devolve from there. Soon the crowd has surged the steps of East Hall, and Josie loses sight of Widmark.

            Panic sweeps over her, and if she wasn’t so concerned about finding the kid, she might have wondered why she’s that worried about him in the first place. This isn’t her job, and every instinct in her body is telling her to cut her losses and run like she has every other time a job’s gone south, like the boys in the car shop taught her all those years ago. But she’s doing this job for Parker, the one person who actually helped her, and Josie can’t bring herself to abandon Widmark. She’s at least got to get him safe before she leaves.

            Josie fights her way through the crowd towards the steps of East Hall. She finally finds Widmark, clutching the stair railing like he’s going to drown if he let’s go. It’d be laughable if it wasn’t for the fact he’s sporting a black eye and a split lip.

            “Stay with me.” Josie yells to him over the roar of the crowd. The kid’s _shaking_ when she finally pries his grip free of the railing and yanks him back the way she came. It takes too long to get through the crowd. The whole time Trevor is talking in her ear, but she doesn’t hear a word of what he says. She’s mad at him for not taking into account all the ways this could have gone. She’s furious with Zoe for coming up with a plan that included so many outside variables.

            She’s mad at herself for sticking around this long even though she knew this job wasn’t safe.

 

* * *

 

 

            Widmark tells himself that everything is fine, that he can do this, that it’s just another job. And it is just like another acting job, until suddenly it _isn’t_. The microphone is grabbed from him and instead of protesting McAdams there’s chanting about tuition rates, and then about how much professors are being paid, and then about the amount of money the school is spending on the new football stadium. Widmark has a brief moment to wonder how this actually happened before he realizes that the crowd is no longer peacefully protesting. There are people rushing towards him, and he has no idea what to do.

            There are voices in his year, Trevor saying something and Josie snapping back at him. Widmark can’t understand what they’re saying. He grips the railing tighter as people swarm around him. There are people pushing at him. Yells and chants devolve quickly into punches. Pain bursts across his face as an elbow hits him. Another push sends him face first into the railing.

            Finally, _finally_ , there’s a friendly face. Josie is yelling at him to let go of the railing. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s been gripping it until after he lets go. He clings to her hand as she shoulders her way through the crowd. He’s having a hard time controlling his breathing, and he feels the panic start to rise. It’s not until a second person grabs his other hand and he turns to see Molly that he starts to feel slightly safer and more aware of his surroundings.

            It’s then that he sees another face, less familiar than the ones on either side of him but still recognizable. It’s the girl from a week ago, the girl who asked him for directions. She looks at him and frowns and he knows she recognized him too. But his brain is too foggy for him to say anything just then, and besides, Molly’s helping him into the car and the girl is no longer in sight. Widmark slumps back against the seat and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

           Olivia leaves the protest as soon as she notices the crowd starting to get out of control. There’s too many people for her to find the boy from a week ago anyways. She’s watching the protest from a distance when the crowd surges up the steps. Maybe it was nothing after all. Maybe that boy had nothing to do with this.

            She realizes she’s wrong when she turns and sees the boy being helped to a car by two girls. He’s got a bloody lip and a black eye and is clinging to the hand of a blonde girl like it’s the only thing keeping him from dissolving into tears. The boy looks straight at her and Olivia knows he recognizes her. She doesn’t risk taking a picture of him, she does make sure to note the license plate number on the car.

            Olivia has to go back to the office to run the license plate. She texts her boss at the internship that she’s running late and hurries downtown to the Interpol offices. It’s there she finds out the car is registered to a Zoe Kerrigan. A further check reveals that Zoe is a straight-A college student with not even a parking ticket on her record. It’s another dead end, and Olivia pushes back her chair with a sigh. She’d really been hoping that this was going to turn out to be the crew she’s looking for. She’s not sure how much longer she can do this internship for without going completely crazy.


	7. Chapter 7

            “Tell me why I shouldn’t walk out right now!” Josie screams as soon as she walks into the warehouse. Her yell echoes around the mostly empty space and it feels like a hundred voices are screaming it at Zoe. “What the hell was that?”

            Guilt hits Zoe as Widmark steps into the light and she sees how battered his face looks. Molly’s already getting him icepacks and paper towels to clean up the blood. He sinks into a chair and takes the offered ice pack, wincing as he presses it against his eye.

            “I’m sorry.” Zoe blurts out. “Widmark, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for anything like this-”

            “To happen?” Josie cuts in.

            “I had no idea it was going to explode like that.” Zoe says. Her throat feels tight and she knows it’s only a matter of time before she starts crying. She _knows_ she messed this up. The worst part of it is, she can’t figure out how this went wrong. She had no idea that her college – where she went to school, thank you very much – had that kind of rioting ability. The local 24-hour news channel has been covering it for the past half hour, and it looks bad.

            Josie leans closer to her, and it takes everything in Zoe’s power not to take a step backward. The other girl is intimidating when she wants to be. Right now, it’s pretty clear just how intimidating she wants to be.

            “Thinking of all the possibilities is your job.” Josie says in a low voice that’s somehow scarier than when she yells. “It’s your job to make sure we stay safe.”

            Zoe feels the tears well up in her eyes and she blinks furiously. She’s known all along that she can’t do this, that Mr. Ford was wrong to tell her that she could solve the problem on her own. She _can’t_.

            “I’m doing my best.” Zoe says back. “I’m trying.”

            “Trying? Why would you put me watching Widmark when Molly’s the one with self-defense training? I’m a thief, not a hitter. What you had me do back there – it wasn’t in my job description!”

“I’m doing my best.” Zoe says again. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before! I’m not a criminal like you!”

            There’s a deafening silence in the warehouse after she says that. Josie stares at her for another few seconds before shaking her head. “I’m done. I’ve put up with too much crap from too many people in my life, and I’m not sticking around anymore.” She turns and starts for the door. Silence falls again as she leaves, with only the soft whirr of Trevor’s computer in the background. Zoe stands stock still, afraid that if she moves everyone else will get up and walk out too.

            Trevor’s the one who breaks the silence. “Hey, Zoe? That, uh, that was partially my fault too. I should have been paying more attention to the rest of the campus. You know, given you a warning.”

            Zoe shakes her head. “Thanks, Trevor, but you did your job. Josie’s right. I’m the one who didn’t do their job.” She takes a deep breath. “If – if you guys don’t want to do this anymore, I understand.”

            Trevor just stares at her with his eyebrow raised. After a moment he turns and looks at Molly. Molly rolls her eyes and claps Widmark on the back. “Don’t be stupid. We’re staying.”

            “Yeah.” Widmark agrees, and Zoe stares at him. She can’t figure out why someone’s who’s been so skittish about this job is suddenly all in _after_ getting hurt.

            “You don’t have to.” Zoe says.

            “You made a mistake.” Widmark says. “It happens. I’m sticking around.”

            Trevor’s already back at work at his computer. Molly’s leaning over his shoulder as usual. It’s like they didn’t even notice what happened, and Zoe doesn’t know whether to be grateful that they’ve got her back or disappointed that they didn’t just walk out and end this whole stupid thing.

 

* * *

 

 

            “I messed up.” Zoe says before Mr. Ford can even say hello. “I wasn’t paying close enough attention and Widmark got hurt and it’s my fault.”

            “The campus protest-turned-riot?” Mr. Ford asks, and Zoe winces. The other news stations have picked up the story by now, and the protest has become a riot. She’s been watching it and feeling more and more inadequate as she sees the destruction her idea led to. Thirteen arrests – _thirteen_. She has no idea how this happened.

            “Yeah.” Zoe says. “I had no idea it could turn into something like this.”

            “Mmm.” Mr. Ford says. “It happens.”

            It happens – that’s all he has to say about it. Zoe wants to scream. She doesn’t remember Mr. Ford being this – this – this _infuriating._ “Is that really all you have to say?” Zoe asks.

            There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “People make mistakes. Do you want me to tell you what you did was inexcusable? Or are you looking for me to say that it’s just a little hiccup and everything will be fine? Because both of those are lies.”

            “What do I do now?” Zoe asks. “Josie’s gone. She walked out, and it was my fault.”

            “Mmm.” Mr. Ford says again. Before Zoe can start yelling, he says, “My team hasn’t always supported me. In fact-”

            There’s a bit of mumbling on the other end of the line before an accented voice says, “Zoe, dear, Nate’s made plenty of mistakes. And besides, teams don’t always get along.”

            Mr. Ford gets back on the line. “Sophie’s right.” He says. “But it’s your job to pull the rest of your team together. They’re depending on you right now. And if they’re still there, it means they’re willing to give you another chance.”

            “So, what, just come up with a whole other plan even though my last one was horrible?”

            “Not horrible.” Mr. Ford says. “There are always outside forces at play. It takes time to know what to do in every situation. But you’ll figure it out.”

            He hangs up before Zoe can say anything else. She stares down at her cell phone for a while, not sure where she’s supposed to go from here.

 

* * *

 

 

            “She called me a criminal.” Josie shouts into the phone. “Like she’s all high and mighty because the little princess got everything handed to her on a plate. I’ve had to fight my way here!”

            “She called you a criminal?” Parker echoes. “So? You are, aren’t you?”

            “That’s not the point.” Josie says. “It’s just, when you say you’re a criminal, it’s like a part of who you are. You’re proud of it. When she says it, it’s an insult. Like I’ll never amount to anything because of who I am.”

            “Oh.” Parker says. “But does it matter what she thinks?”

            Josie lets out a long breath. It doesn’t matter what Zoe thinks of her. She knows that. She could care less of Zoe’s opinion of her. But there’s just something that’s bothering her. “I called her out on her mistakes. What she did wrong. She excused herself from being at fault by saying she wasn’t a criminal like me.” She takes another deep breath. “I don’t care what she thinks of me. But she’s playing a game and not realizing that she’s using real people as the game pieces. Widmark already got hurt. I wasn’t about to stick around and be the next one to go down.”

            “I get it.” Parker says.

            “Do you?” Josie asks, because she thinks maybe Parker doesn’t.

            “I’m not about to tell you to stick around if you think you’re in danger.” Parker snaps. “I spent years working alone. I had a reason for that. If your gut is telling you to run, do it.”

            Josie sighs. “That’s the problem.” She says quietly. “I don’t know what my gut is telling me anymore.”

            Parker snorts. “No, your gut is telling you to run. It’s your conscious that’s messing with you. Believe me, I know the feeling.”

            “So what do I do?”

            “That’s up to you.” Parker says.  

            When Josie hangs up the phone, she’s feeling more confused than she was before she called Parker. She’s still furious with Zoe, both for putting her and Widmark in that situation and for calling her a criminal, but she feels guilty too. For a moment she considers walking back into the warehouse. In the end, though, she decides to listen to her gut. It hasn’t steered her wrong before.

 

* * *

 

 

            Widmark is sprawled out on his couch with ice packs pressed up against his face. He’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s about as close as he’s going to get tonight. He’s actually okay with it though. Under all the terror he felt today, there was this little undercurrent of something else. Regular life was _boring_.

            That’s not to say he wants to be trampled by a crowd again. But still. There’s something more to life than going to auditions and taking classes. He gets why the others like doing this.

            His phone rings. It’s Ms. Donovan, and he picks up wondering if she’s calling to tell him not to quit the job.

            “Hi, Ms. Donovan.” He says, wincing when talking makes his split lip ache.

            “Sophie.” The woman says. “Nate told me what happened. Are you alright?”

            She sounds worried, but Widmark can’t tell if it’s because she’s waiting for him to say he’s done or if because she’s concerned he got hurt. “Yeah.” Widmark says. “Yeah, I’m okay. I have a question, though. How am I, um, how do I grift with a black eye?”

            There’s a surprised laugh on the other end of the line. “So you’re staying?” Sophie says, and she sounds relieved.

            “Yeah.” Widmark says again. “This is actually turning out to be sorta…fun, believe it or not. Black eye and all.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Molly reaches forward to grab another slice of pizza before leaning as far back in her chair as she can without falling to the floor. “Today was a mess.” She says. “It was _crazy.”_

            Trevor, whose chair is balanced as precariously as hers, takes a bite of pizza and nods.   “Yeah. I didn’t see any of this coming. Like, at all.”

            Molly hums in agreement. She thought Zoe was going to end the whole thing after Josie stormed out, but she hadn’t. Instead she’d loaded Widmark into her car and driven him home, leaving Molly and Trevor in the warehouse by themselves. The pizza they’d ordered is almost gone. It’s not like it’s late or anything – even with the delivery guy getting majorly lost on his way here (because apparently not many people get pizza delivered to a warehouse), it was only late afternoon when he arrived – but the day’s been so long and crazy that she feels a weird mix of hyper and exhausted.

            She and Trevor haven’t really spoken much in the time they’ve been alone, just enough to decide on what toppings for the pizza and argue over who gets to pay (Neither of them do; Molly got hungry while waiting and grabbed a cereal box off the shelf only to find a stack of twenties stuffed in the bottom). It’s a comfortable silence, though – which is actually pretty weird when Molly thinks about it. It’s not like she’s known Trevor for very long, but he’s fun to bicker with, and that’s high on Molly’s list of reasons to hang out with someone.

            “Let’s do something.” Molly says when Trevor’s finished the last slice of pizza.

            “Like what?”

            “I don’t know. Something.” Molly looks around the warehouse. There are two office chairs with wheels by Trevor’s computers. “We can have a race with the chairs.”

            Trevor raises an eyebrow in an attempt to look judgmental, but Molly can tell just how badly he wants to do that. “How?”

            Molly jumps up. “Help me move this shelf.” She says. The two of them move the shelf with all the cereal boxes over until it’s safely away from the computers and the table. Molly drags the two office chairs towards the wall. “Here are the rules. You push the chair until you get to the shelf. As you go by, you have to jump onto the chair and glide. You can’t use your hands or feet to move forward after you pass the shelf. Whoever goes the farthest wins.”

            “We are so going to kill ourselves doing this.” Trevor said, but he’s got a big grin on his face. “Let’s do it!”

            There’s some squabbling over who gets to say ‘go’ (they decide in the end to count down from three together). The first time they try, Molly crashes right into the shelf and Trevor trips over his chair because he’s laughing so hard. The next few times don’t fare much better. It’s not until the fifth attempt that both of them actually manage to keep their chairs upright when they jump on them, and Molly wins by a couple of feet. Trevor demands they go again. He wins that one. Demands for best two out of three escalate to three out of five to four out of seven. Eventually Molly’s not sure how many times they’ve raced or how long it’s been. They both yell go and take off. Neither one of them has their chair angled right, though, because when they pass the shelf and jump on, instead of gliding forward they end up crashing into each other.

            It’s a tangle of limbs and chairs and wheels. Molly and Trevor are laughing so hard neither one of them can get up. When Molly finally does try to get up, she rolls on top of Trevor by mistake. For a split second neither one of them moves. Then Trevor leans up and kisses Molly. It’s a quick, barely-there kiss.

            Molly freezes. Trevor opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to apologize. “Molly, I’m-”

            Molly shushes him. “How about instead of apologizing you actually kiss me this time?”

            “Oh.” Trevor says. He looks confused, but it doesn’t take very long for him to start smiling. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

            It’s a much better kiss this time around.


	8. Chapter 8

 

            “No, sir.” Olivia says. “I haven’t found anything yet.”

            Her boss frowns at her. “Maybe you just aren’t taking this seriously enough.” He says, and he probably has a valid point. Olivia’s plenty suspicious, but she’s pretty sure telling her boss that she’s run into the same kid twice on campus isn’t the sort of update he wants.

            “I’m doing my best.” Olivia says. “It’s hard to actually investigate when I keep getting told to mail invitations and call the catering company to make sure there’s going to be enough food.”

            “You really don’t have anything?”

            Olivia shrugs. She’s run all the names of the people invited to the exhibit opening. College art museums don’t exactly attract celebrities. It’s mostly professors and art majors and the art critics from the local papers. There are a few big names – mostly wealthy alumni who donated to the museum. A couple of names threw up some flags, but there’s nothing that screams ‘ _art thief’_ about any of them. It’s more likely that the thieves – if they in fact exist – are going to come in disguised as member of the catering staff or something like that.

            “Fine.” Her boss says. “Keep me updated.”

            Olivia arrives on campus an hour later. It’s pretty dead after the excitement of yesterday. She read the police reports – several arrests, a fair amount of damage, and some injuries. Nothing on the boy she’s seen twice now, not that she thought there would be. His friends had seemed pretty eager to get him away from the chaos of the protest. She doesn’t blame them.

            It’s not until she’s going through the guest list and double checking who’s already RSVP’d that she sees something that catches her attention. The car yesterday had belonged to a Zoe Kerrigan. The same name is on the guest list. Zoe Kerrigan is an art major.

            “What do I do if I have a bunch of little things that might not mean anything?” Olivia says when her dad picks up the phone.

            “What sort of little things?” Her dad asks.

            Olivia tells him about running into the boy and the car and Zoe Kerrigan. He listens without comment until she ends with, “And none of it connects to anything, and the kid might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I don’t even know if the protest means anything. And even if it did, I bet there were plenty of art majors there.”

            “Probably.” Her dad agrees. “But if I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s not to ignore your instinct. If you think these kids are up to something, keep digging. You’ll find something.”

            “You think?”

            “Sure.” Her dad says. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was –”

            “ _Yes_ , Dad.”

 

* * *

          

 

            Zoe walks into the warehouse the next morning not sure what to expect. Even though Widmark, Trevor, and Molly had said they were still in, she spent most of the night tossing and turning and worrying about them walking out. She’s pretty much convinced herself that they’re not going to show. But when she opens the warehouse door and steps inside, she can hear laughter echoing through the space.

            The warehouse is a _mess_. The shelf with all the cereal has been moved, and several cereal boxes are scattered on the floor, their contents spilling out. One of the office chairs has been reduced to a heap of parts, and while the other one is in its place by Trevor’s computer, it’s looking decidedly mangled, not to mention short a wheel. Molly’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the table, holding a cereal box in one hand and a half-empty bottle of orange soda in the other. Widmark and Trevor are both cackling madly over something she said.

            “Um. Hi.” Zoe says. “How long have you guys been here?”

            The laughing dies pretty suddenly. Zoe starts to feel like she’s not welcome until she realizes that Molly and Trevor are wearing matching guilty expressions.

            “The chairs are her fault!” Trevor says, stabbing a finger in Molly’s direction. “And the cereal, too.”

            “No way, the cereal is all you.” Molly says. “You’re the one who couldn’t catch any of the cereal you were throwing.”

            “Yeah, but you’re the one who crashed into the shelf and knocked over all the boxes.”

            “Did you sleep here last night?” Zoe asks, because she really doesn’t need details about whatever the two of them got up to after she left.

            “No!” Trevor and Molly both say a little too quickly. Zoe decides she’s better off not knowing _anything_.        

            “I’ve got some bad news.” Zoe says as she sits down at the table. “The president of my school sent out an email this morning. The administration isn’t too happy about the protest, and they announced their support for the research McAdams is doing.”

            “Meaning?” Molly asks.

            “Meaning there’s no way we can get his project stopped now!” Zoe snaps. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s over.”

            “There has to be another way.” Trevor starts to argue.

            “I’ve been trying to think of one.” Zoe says. “Look, I have to get to class. I was just coming by to say thanks for trying. It meant a lot to me.”

            She walks out of the warehouse before the other three can say anything. She’s fighting back tears. Her plan – her only plan – depended on the school withdrawing its support. Now that there’s no chance of that happening, there’s nothing she can do.

 

* * *

 

 

            There’s silence following Zoe’s departure. Trevor fiddles with a cord. Molly is frowning and absently eating cereal. Widmark feels his heart sink as he looks between the two of them. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t exactly been successful in his first attempt at grifting.   He thought he had finally found something.

            “So now what?” Molly asks. “We just pack up and leave?”

            “I guess.” Trevor says. He glances towards his computers and sighs. “Man, it took me forever to set this all up.”

            “Wait.” Widmark says. “There has to be something we can do. Maybe we haven’t looked at all the options.”

            “I’m not a mastermind.” Trevor says. “That’s not my job.”

            “So?” Widmark asks. “You don’t honestly want to leave, do you?”

            Trevor looks over at Molly, and yeah, Widmark can tell something definitely happened after Zoe took him home last night. “Not really.” He admits. “I just don’t see what I can do.”

            “There has to be something.” Widmark says again. “Think. What else could end this guy’s project?”

            “He’s not going to lose funding.” Molly says around a mouthful of cereal. “Clearly the school isn’t going to pressure him into ending his research. What else is there?”

            Trevor moves his chair closer to the computers. “I’m looking.” Molly leans over his shoulder until he pushes her back, muttering about crumbs.

            “You know, this would be so much easier if I actually knew how this whole college research thing went.” Molly says a few minutes later. “Like, does the school administration just look at his project and decide if they like it or not?”

            Trevor types madly for a minute. “That’s it!” He says excitedly. “You’re a genius!”

            “I know.” Molly says. “Why?”

            “So there’s this thing called the Office of Research Compliance.” Trevor says, pulling up the school website. “It’s in charge of making sure all research is ethical and complies with all these regulations and all that. There’s all these forms that have to be filled out by people who want to do a study, and this place reviews them.”

            “Did McAdams get approved?” Widmark asks.

            “Yeah, he has to have.” Trevor answers. “He couldn’t conduct his study otherwise.”

            “So that doesn’t give us anything.” Molly says with a sigh.

            “I guess not.” Trevor says. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t really know what else there is to do. He may not have been fair with the whole funding thing, but he’s allowed to do this research, so we’re out of luck.”

            A heavy silence falls over the room. Molly’s face is twisted into a scowl. None of them want to admit defeat. They may not have wanted this job to start with, but it’s theirs now, and it isn’t so easy to walk away from something when you’ve put this kind of effort into it.

            Widmark leans over Trevor’s shoulder and scans the website. He sees nothing that will help them until he gets to the very bottom of the page, where there’s a small link that says ‘Complaints’.

            “That’s it.” He says under his breath. “Tell Zoe she needs to get back here. There might still be a way to salvage this whole thing.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Josie wakes up to a car alarm outside her window and her cellphone ringing. She glances at the screen, half-expecting it to be Zoe calling her. It’s not. It’s the leader of a crew she worked with several months back. It wasn’t a bad gig, not by far, but the crew was getting in a little deeper than Josie liked. She has rules about what she’s willing to do and what she’s not, and there are certain jail sentences she’s not willing to serve.

            “What’s up?” She asks.

            “I need you.” Danny says. “Brad went and got himself arrested last night, and I’ve got a big job coming up.”

            “I’m not really looking for anything right now.” Josie says. “I can get you in touch with a couple of people though.”

            “No.” Danny says. “I need _you._ I can’t trust a stranger with this.”

            “What is it?”

            “Are you in?”

            Josie looks around her bare apartment. She needs something to keep her mind off of Zoe and the others. She’s still pissed at Zoe, but there’s something about the job itself that keeps pulling her thoughts back. She needs a distraction.

            “What’s my cut?”


End file.
